


Appel Du Vide

by The Cheshire Kitty (Stregatta)



Category: Muse (Band), Placebo (UK Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, But it also has some cute moments?, Choking, Drug Use, Food Kink, Humiliation, I mean it's not the lightest read I guess?, Light Bondage, M/M, References to Depression, Slapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 03:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20057383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stregatta/pseuds/The%20Cheshire%20Kitty
Summary: Brian Molko's craziest days are over. Matt Bellamy's craziest days are about to start.





	Appel Du Vide

**Author's Note:**

> The "appel du vide" is "significantly used to describe the instinctive urge to jump from high places", according to the Collins dictionary. It means "the call of the void", literally.

[…]_ Often, people fall in love with something they're totally afraid of, _[…]

Dave Grohl, “Hallo Spaceboys”, Melody Maker, February '97

As it happened many times before, Brian felt once again deeply misunderstood by the world.

It must have been karma taking the piss out of his latest interviews, in which he had been blathering about how he had come clean after he quit his former life full of all sort of excesses and that infamous tour in '97, the one he once said to have left a trail of blood and spunk all over the UK or something along those lines, he cannot even fucking remember the exact wording he used back then. Shit, he did have a big mouth, after all. And a small memory. It must have been all those fucking drugs, burning his neurons out.

Anyway, trying to take it easier and not to completely destroy what was left of his liver and reputation didn't mean that he couldn't indulge with some fun and have the occasional drink at a friend's party.

Unfortunately, tonight's drink was the shittiest Brian had in ages – and, for someone who was into vodka and Red Bull, that spoke volumes about what was inside his cup.

In general, the party was... Well, not exactly boring. Two years before, he would not have found it boring. Music, booze, raging hormones...

It was average. Mediocre, to be more specific.

Brian thought of leaving the place without even say goodbye to the owner. He could feel himself growing irritated by the second.

A slight tap on his shoulder startled him.

\- Brian?

Alessandro, Italian photographer. Tall, tanned, broad shoulders, long curly brown hair and piercing dark eyes. All in all, a walking Fabio-esque stereotype who appealed to that – small, tiny, the tiniest – part of Brian which fantasized about being dressed in silk and lace and most of all wrapped in the tightest bodice, which at some point during his fantasy would punctually be ripped off by an impetuous buccaneer with a tortured soul and a fuckton of rippling muscles underneath his bronzed, smooth skin.

A walking wet dream amidst a nightmare.

\- … hello there – Brian said, with a grin.

Maybe karma was not completely against him, after all.

Judging from the sudden glint in Alessandro's eyes, Brian felt that he was right.

\- _Bellissimo... Come stai?_

\- _Molto bene, grazie._ What are you doing here?

\- Enjoying the party, just as you are.

Alessandro chuckled at Brian's disgusted grimace.

\- I don't know what happened to good old Randy, he used to have some taste in alcoholic beverages. Tonight everything sucks.

\- Oh, don't be so dramatic now.

\- You know, that's my prerogative. A long time ago I tried to become an actor, after all.

\- You shouldn't have given up. I saw you in Velvet Goldmine. Iconic stuff, mate.

\- Oh, come on, you're just flattering me now.

\- No, really... Your lines were amazing.

\- Lines? With an “s”? It was just one, and then all I had to do was writhing on a stage, clad in leather pants and covered in glitter.

\- Told you... Iconic.

\- Well, at least I looked hot.

\- You did.

Brian didn't answer to that. He just smiled maliciously.

He was waiting for a proposal that came a couple of seconds later.

\- Are you alone, tonight?

\- Yes, I am.

\- Aw... How is that even possible?

\- I know, right? I mean, people are out of their fucking minds.

\- Their loss... And, hopefully, my gain.

Oh, yes.

Brian could not help but slightly shiver with anticipation, as Frank-N-Furter would have said.

Ok, he had come clean. He had been such a good boy during Black Market Music's writing and recording. He had been all about monogamy and excellent red wine, just a single glass per meal. And the aforementioned vodka and Red Bull, but just on a night out. And lots of cigarettes, ok, but it was Marlboro Light, so it did not really count, did it?

Then, it came the break-up. A nasty one. At Christmas, even. And then all the work, which it was a good time but it was work nonetheless. And that fucking horrible party he was still at, with all of that appalling booze and that shitty music.

He needed some fun. He craved some fun. He was so going to get some fun.

\- There's another party I'd like to attend, tonight...

\- A better one, I guess?

\- Way better, but... You know... I need a plus one in order to get in.

A faint pang right in the middle of Brian's chest reminded him of his resolutions.

Fun was a thing. Getting involved in dodgy activities again was a far cry from it.

\- Anything else?

\- Nothing in particular.

\- No mask or hood or...?

\- What? No, I...

Alessandro sighed, and then smiled reassuringly: - It's not an Eyes Wide Shut sort of scenario, it's a smaller party... Intimate.

\- How many people?

\- Just the four of us... No girls. Is that a problem for you?

Brian snorted a laugh: - Are you fucking kidding me?

\- Mhm, you're the best...

Alessandro got closer to Brian to whisper in his ear: - … Brian Molko, always up for an adventure.

Shivers. Shivers of antici... pation.

\- Get your coat, latin lover – was Brian's answer to that.

As they were driving to the other party's place, Brian hoped it would have been worth it – Alessandro's friend lived in _Hendon_, for fuck's sake.

The ride was pretty, at least – a comfortable linear passage from Camden's chaos to the NW4 void, through the Haverstock Hill and a branch of his favourite London's park, Hampstead Heath.

The city was quite a sight, by night.

Brian did not contribute much to Alessandro's efforts at having and keeping a casual conversation – it was not like he wasn't interested in what his friend was saying. He just had this habit of quietly getting lost in what was outside the window, in the world laid bare in front of him.

He had to contradict himself once more, that night, in acknowledging that Big Mouth was not so big, after all.

The trip was over way too soon, for Brian's liking – even with the prospect of moderately promiscuous sex on the horizon.

Alessandro had got a copy of his friend's keys, and he and Brian got inside the house like they owned it.

The place was well-furnished and smelled of a pleasant mixture of smoke and roses. Some smooth, generic R&B beat came from upstairs.

\- I guess the other guest is already here – Alessandro commented as he and Brian made their way to the bedroom.

The door was half-closed. Slowly, Alessandro pushed it open.

The smokey, flowery scent lingering in the hall became stronger: it oozed from a couple of candles, one on the nightstand and the other on the window sill. The music was louder, too.

Also, Brian noticed a scrawny, pasty guy with hair sporting a bright shade of blue who was sprawled on the bed, naked and panting: next to him, a taller, hairier and sturdier guy was languorously jerking him off while hungrily staring at his face.

\- I thought you would wait for us, before starting with... What's his name? – said Alessandro.

The boy snapped out of his erotic stupor and shot a glance at the newcomers.

His gaze lingered on Brian, before he succinctly introduced himself.

\- My name's Matthew.

He then turned to the other guy and did not even try to lower his voice as he blurted: - You told me it would have been an all-male night.

Brian heard Alessandro stifling a giggle – but for some reason, even though he was generally well amused by this kind of reaction and would actively try to get people to mistake him for a woman, at the moment he did not feel like having a laugh at _fucking_ all; he placed a hand on his crotch to palm his cock and give it a squeeze, all the while looking straight into Matthew's eyes.

\- Well, he's definitely a man of his word.

Alessandro's friend got up, sporting a bobbing erection between his big, toned thighs.

\- My name's Fillip... Welcome to my house.

As stupid as it was in those circumstances, Brian felt a sense of squeamishness as he shook Fillip's hand – the very same hand that a few seconds before was tugging at the rude, blue-haired boy's cock. Anyway, the guy seemed nice, a sort of gentle giant whose accent Brian recognized almost instantly.

\- You're Polish, am I right?

Fillip's already impressive chest expanded even more with pride.

\- Born and raised in Krakow.

Brian smiled sweetly.

\- Oh... And does that mean that you've got some proper vodka to offer us?

\- That'd be great... - Alessandro sneaked an arm around Brian's waist.

\- … we come from the shittiest, poorest excuse of a party I've ever gone to. We need the good stuff.

\- Mate, you've got the keys for the cocktail cabinet too... Help yourself. And bring some for me and my Matty, here.

The foursome was shorter than Brian thought it would have been. Short but satisfying, though: Alessandro was a great lover, caring and chivalrous even with every inch of his dick buried deep in his arse. That night Brian had sex with him twice, while Fillip was playing around with the other guy next to them.

Their host for the night seemed to be very keen on taking care of his “Matty” - as Brian was being fucked at the same time on the same, king-size mattress, he could not help listening to the sweet nothings Fillip was murmuring to his partner's ear about how gorgeous he looked, how lovely he was, how smooth his skin felt and so on.

Alessandro was not the vocal type. He compensated that with a lot of raw, physical energy – a couple of times, he accidentally pushed Brian against the other guys, making his and Matthew's shoulders and arms brush: every time it happened, Matthew would turn to them and smile breathily.

Every time it happened, Brian would not reciprocate.

The air outside the house, far from the smell of smoke, rose and sex, felt rarefied and freezing cold.

Brian covered his mouth with his coat's collar, and closed his eyes.

He could hear his companions chatting and laughing nearby, but he didn't feel like joining them. It was cold, he was tired – no, he was fucking spent – and he didn't know Fillip and Matthew well enough to enjoy a conversation with them. Maybe next time, if it would have been one - over all, the experience had been pleasant enough and he wouldn't have minded another ride on Fillip's majestic bed.

At the moment, though, the only bed Brian was longing for was his own.

A warm, familiar touch on his forearm.

\- Are you coming round to my place?

Brian smiled, and said earnestly: - I need to sleep.

\- I wouldn't touch you... Again.

\- _I_ would, though – a white lie to soften his refusal – as pleasant as it had been before, the mere idea of having sex with Alessandro again left Brian almost nauseous, his stomach suddenly twisted into a tight knot... Damn it, that sense of guilt.

\- … also, I think I'm going to call a cab. My flat is far from where you live, there's no reason to make you waste your time and gas.

\- You sure? It wouldn't be a problem.

\- I'll be fine. I'm all grown up. I'm not a little girl anymore.

Alessandro laughed at Brian's joke, and the latter's guilt acquired a new, different shade – his friend seemed so genuinely interested in his welfare and in what he said, and he was such a good fuck...

Why was it so hard to fall for the right person?

Alessandro planted a chaste kiss on his cheek.

\- Goodnight, _bellissimo_.

\- _Buonanotte_, my beautiful.

After that, the Italian man got in his car, and the Polish guy got in his house.

Before Brian could take his mobile phone to call a cab, he heard a by now familiar voice.

\- Oi!

Right in front of Fillip's house, there was a bus stop. A bus was approaching from afar.

Matthew pointed at the both of them, and said: - I'm getting on the bus. You comin' with me?

\- No, I'm not.

\- Are you gonna stay here, all alone?

\- It's fine.

\- No, it's not.

Brian looked up to the other man, who stuttered: - I-I think it's a bit too late and... Well, it could be dangerous or... You know... Boring? Like, we could just... Talk, maybe?

The bus had almost reached the bus stop.

And it really was a bit too late, after all.

And when he realized that, Brian's sense of guilt found a friend – a general feeling of irrational anxiety at the idea of staying there, in the cold, in a place he did not like at all – and they both decided to share the same place: his tightly knotted stomach, of course.

After all, it would have been a relatively short trip. He could bear being around someone else for just another handful of minutes.

And then, bed.

Matthew took the seat next to the window, without asking if Brian wanted it for himself.

Before, he had simply gone upstairs without telling his companion if it was ok for him to sit there.

He was so nonchalantly, so innocently bad-mannered that Brian couldn't even feel offended – he simply accepted the fact that he had made a huge mistake, as he was waiting for the trip to end.

\- Where you goin'?

\- To bed.

\- I'm not gonna follow you, you don't have to act all secretive.

\- That's what a stalker would say.

\- Do you have one?

Brian could not help chuckling.

He already knew the answer to the question he was going to ask: - I guess you've never heard about me, do you?

\- Should I have?

Well, technically that was not a rude remark. Technically.

\- Brian Molko. From Placebo.

A split second later, Matthew's face lit up as he burst into a deflagration of words: - Oooh, I thought – like, at first I thought “hey, this bird reminds me of someone” and then you turned out to be a guy and then I thought “ahah, I got it, he totally looks like _him_” but I couldn't believe - I mean, what were the odds to be in a foursome with you? So, I just ignored that thought and I didn’t even ask what was your name and I went on... You know, being shagged senselessly by Fillip while your hot Italian friend was doing the same to you. Man, was he hot.

Brian looked at him for a while, before facing the seat in front of him and muttering to himself: - I should have called a cab.

Matthew fell silent, much for Brian's relief.

A relief that did not last for long.

\- You know... One would never guess you're such a vanilla cupcake in bed.

Even though Matthew was not looking at Brian, the latter could easily notice his grin reflecting on the window's surface.

\- Excuse me...?

\- You were literally purring. Are you two together?

\- We fuck, sometimes – Brian shrugged, trying to sound as indifferent as possible.

Matthew's grin grew larger, as he said: - Mhm, romantic, candlelit shags with rose petals and heart-shaped chocolates scattered on your bed... Maybe you'd put some music on, like Sting or Simply Red...

Still trying not to give his irritation away at the other's cheap mockery, Brian shrugged again: - Yeah, well, I'd choose something better, but... Even if I was into vanilla sex, who cares? We're in fuckin' 2000, and we're still trying to policy each other's way of having sex... Fuck that.

Matthew kept quiet for a bit, before he pondered: - Well, of course you know that yes, we still are... Otherwise, your shtick would be a spectacular failure. Talking about your sexual tastes is what propelled your band out of anonymity. It wouldn't have worked in a more sexually liberated society. I mean... Basically, you profit off bigotry.

\- Are you implying that I'm some fucking greedy hypocritical dickhead? - Brian snapped.

Seriously, what was that? A fucking interview or something? Did he really have to endure that sort of bullshit even when he was not on his job?_ After a goddamn orgy?_

\- Fuckin' hell, mate, touchy much? It could have been a compliment, you know?

\- So, you're saying that it wasn't.

\- It was a statement, plain and simple. You decided that I was insulting you. Like, being exploited is exactly what those arseholes deserve. I might have been praisin' you for that. Also, you can be both... A greedy hero. A prudish slut. A man and a woman. That's what makes you interesting to the audience.

Brian felt even more tired than he was before: he hid his face inside his open hands, making no effort to stop the heavy sigh that escaped his mouth.

It was exhausting. Even if he knew very well that he had kind of signed for this when he put on some lipstick and a skirt for the first time, it was still exhausting.

\- … that's what makes you interesting to me.

Brian lifted his head.

\- And now you're flirting...? - he exhaled, in disbelief.

Matthew was smiling differently, now.

\- You avoided me, at Fillip's.

\- I didn't. I was busy having sex with someone else, just like you were.

\- It would have been easy to just reach for me, we were so close...

\- And yet you didn't.

\- I tried. You know that.

Ok, so Matthew wanted him. Honestly, even that felt like a fucking cliché.

At least, that gave Brian some leverage.

Slowly, he unleashed a poisonous smile upon the other guy.

\- I guess you just can't lose, kid – Brian murmured.

He definitely did not expect to have Matthew's hand land on his knee.

\- I know I don't look the part, but... If you wish... I could make you scream.

Well, he did not look the part _before_.

Still, it was a game Brian was too used to play to just let him win that easily.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Matthew's, he asked: - With agony or with pleasure?

The hand traveled upwards, finding Brian's inner thigh.

\- I'm good at both.You only have to ask.

Cocky. Cocky and awkward at the same time - the pressure on his thigh was not that firm, after all, and he could feel that Matthew's palm was sweaty, and there was something about his face... His eyes.

He was bluffing so fucking hard.

Shaking his head, Brian mused sincerely: - You'd probably make for a good Dom, if I was into that kind of scene... Or a good sub, maybe. I must confess I'm a tad confused, right now.

Brian pressed the stop button, even though he was still a bit far from his destination.

He turned to Matthew and said: - Sleep tight, mate... After you've had a nice, long wank while thinking about me, of course.

He did not even check the other's reaction, before going for the exit.


End file.
